Rock and a Hard Place
by Twinings
Summary: Some people call it a one night stand, but we can call it paradise. -CAT-


_Disclaimer: I don't own this stuff._

_I do apologize for not posting all of this sooner. I haven't had internet on my own computer for about a month, so I wasn't able to upload my completed fics until last night. (For future reference, Disney really is a magic kingdom.) I'll be posting one chapter per day, in chronological order, until I get caught up. That's about two weeks' worth of reading. Aren't you lucky?_

_View the CATverse timeline at www. freewebs. com/ catverse . This fic is not when the timeline claims it to be, but takes place in the first February of Arc 5, after a certain wild goose chase and before "Stay Out of the Alley."

* * *

_

Any idiot would have known that Robinson Park was not the place for a rock concert. But Gotham City's affairs weren't under the control of just _any _idiots.

The park hadn't been purposely designed to be a natural amphitheatre, but that was the way it turned out. The acoustics were perfect for any kind of show, and the trash, human and otherwise, that began to infiltrate all such places after hours were periodically cleaned out of Robinson Park by the Queen of the Green, who tolerated no interlopers.

Poison Ivy was currently in Arkham, but that wouldn't stop her from exacting her revenge on those responsible when she returned to the wreck of what had been her favorite home.

This would not be a good year for Duran Duran.

--

"Duran Duran?" Al repeated skeptically. "As in, the pretty boys of 1986?"

"They weren't _just_ around in the '80s," the Captain explained. "But, yeah, that's them."

"And you _want_ this?"

"I know what you're thinking," Techie said, "but you can't tell me 'Hungry Like the Wolf' doesn't make you want to melt."

"Ahoy," the Captain added, and whistled the Old Spice theme. The others stared at her.

"I thought you couldn't whistle."

"I know, surprised me, too. But, about the concert…"

"I don't know," Al said lackadaisically. "Squishy?"

"No," said the Scarecrow, without looking up from his newspaper.

"No, as in, I shouldn't go, or no, as in, you don't want to join us?" He rattled the paper pointedly and didn't say a word.

The three women shared a silent conversation then, knowing that it would take more work than they were willing to put forth to convince him to come out with them.

And they weren't leaving him _alone_. It was far too soon for that.

So Al shrugged, almost apologetically, and said, "What do I care about Duran Duran? When someone raises Freddie Mercury for a reunion tour, I'll come with you. Until then, y'all have fun without me."

At that, Crane looked up with some suspicion at his blatantly innocent minions. Oh, yes, he knew they were conspiring against him. But since he couldn't see the hows or whys of their treachery, there was nothing he could do about it.

He retreated to the safety of his newspaper and counted himself lucky that he was going to be free of two of them, if only for an evening.

And he _didn't_ smile when Al brought him a sandwich that had clearly been on fire sometime in the recent past.

And if he teased her about it, that was _biting sarcasm_, not friendly banter.

And he absolutely did not drag her into the kitchen and teach her how to use a wok.

--

They were eating stir-fried vegetables and watching _Dracula_ (which, somehow, Al had managed never to have seen) when the door banged open and Techie stumbled in, wild-eyed, disheveled, and smelling like smoke.

"Good concert?" asked Al. "You lost the Captain."

"Lost her?" Techie repeated. "_Lost her_?! She _ditched _me to go flying with Mr. Exploding Exoskeleton!"

"Mr. Who, now?"

"Firefly!"

Crane paused the movie.

"Is she still alive?" he asked.

"As far as I could tell."

He sat back. That was all he needed to know.

"What happened?" Al demanded.

"Well—we got to the park and Kirked our way past security, no problem. We missed the opening act, which turned out to be a very good thing. Did you know the Captain _hates_ Poison? Word of warning, don't get that woman started on 'Every Rose Has Its Thorn.' Not unless you like hearing the phrase 'deeply meaningless bullshit' screeched in your ear until you're ready to set the whole band on fire just to shut her up. She has a problem with songs that bring on the lighters and swaying."

"You set them on fire?"

"What? No. Cap got in a fight with the guy next to us, but there was no fire involved. Oh, Squishy, I'm so glad you didn't come. I always said you'd never survive a mosh pit."

"A mosh pit?" he repeated dubiously. "There was a mosh pit at a Duran Duran concert?"

"_No_, Squishums. Aren't you listening? No mosh pit. Just a little riot. What are you eating?"

Al handed over her own bowl.

"Finish the story!"

"Okay." She took a bite. "Hey, not bad. So, Captain got in a fight with the guy, but they both settled down once Duran Duran was on the stage. They weren't too bad, by the way. I've been to worse concerts. Of course, when they started singing 'Save a Prayer' and the lighters came out, I thought the Captain was going to throw another fit, but…well, it turns out she _likes_ that song. But the same guy who pissed her off before managed to bump into us again, so Captain knocked him into a tree. And this time, there was fire. Did you know Ivy got out of Arkham this morning?"

Crane hid his smile by taking a sip of water.

"What _happened_?" Al asked eagerly.

"The park might have…burned down."

"Burned down!"

"Well, not _all_ of it. Things sort of got confusing, we got separated, and I ended up backstage. Oh, Al, you should have been there! They had a surprise guest act. You'll never guess who."

"Who?"

"Guess!" she said cheerfully.

"Freddie Mercury," Crane guessed before Al could speak up. Techie blinked twice.

"How did you know?"

His answer was drowned out by a scream from Al. He pulled away from her.

"Freddie Mercury! FREDDIE MERCURY! Alive?! How? Cloned? What did they _do_?!" She gasped. "How was he? Voice the same? OH MY **GOD**!" She tackled Techie. The bowl of stir-fry went up in the air as the two of them hit the floor.

"Ow," Techie said, her voice muffled by the kind of hug that could shatter bones.

_Better her than me_, he decided, and casually moved as far away from them as he could without attracting their attention.

"WHAT HAPPENED?" Al yelled.

"I'm…sorry," said Techie. Al sat up abruptly.

"For _what_?"

"The fire…he kinda didn't make it out."

"Oh." Al burst into tears and threw herself at Jonathan. He managed not to be thrown to the floor, but there was very little chance of his getting off the couch and making his escape any time soon. She sobbed into his shirt. On the pretense of patting her shoulder, he blocked her from wrapping her arms around his waist.

For Techie, he had a particularly nasty glare.

"Why is she crying on me?" he asked, icily polite. Perhaps wisely, she backed away and didn't answer. "And how good are the chances that the Captain isn't coming back?"

"Oh, she'll be back eventually."

"Eventually?" he repeated. "And just what do you mean by that?"

"Captain…" She laughed. "Captain made a friend." He didn't ask her for the story. She told it anyway. "Everything was on fire. It was pandemonium, crowds everywhere, screaming…it was so cool. I was looking for Mon Capitan, and when I finally found her…she was up high, where she had a good view of the chaos. She was backlit by the flames, and everything was all flickery and the shadows were dancing, and I heard this voice behind me whisper, 'Goddess!' Then the next thing I know, Firefly's zipping over the crowd, and he lands next to her and says something, and she laughs…"

Al raised her head.

"Firefly?"

"Yep. They flew off together."

"But _I_ was supposed to get Firefly," Al said with a sniffle. Crane could only stare at her as Techie sat down with a shrug.

"You snooze, you lose, Numbah One. I wonder if they've made the news yet."

Unable to restrain his curiosity, Jonathan reached for the remote.

--

Some years later, a little-known street busker achieved some fame with one of his original songs, an intricate ballad called "Dancing Flame." Publicly, he gave credit for the inspiration for the song to the infamous Robinson Park fire that somehow spread halfway across Gotham City on the night of the last outdoor concert ever to be held in that area. Privately, of course, there was a different story. He would never forget the two figures he had seen waltzing in the smoky sky as the flames danced destruction all around them.

* * *

_Author's note: Thanks for reading! Tomorrow, CATfight._


End file.
